Heaven and Hell
by Snowie2
Summary: Sam's locked up detoxing, Dean's pissed, but then, so is Sam...


This is a one-parter that takes place shortly after the end of Episode 4.20 The Rapture. I don't think this is anything close to how things are going to go, especially having seen the previews… Call it wishful thinking. Anyway, hope you like it.

Heaven and Hell

_Where do we go from here…?_

Dean looked through the small, barred opening, too many emotions to count or name warring within him.

That was his brother in there, laying on that cot, his back to the door.

His _little _brother, kinda evil and addicted to demon blood.

Demon blood!

The next time he saw that bitch Ruby he was sending her ass back to hell. The hard way!

Because his little brother was not supposed to be evil.

Not _Sammy_.

Not the one person who made the world a livable place for Dean.

Stubborn, adaptable, selfish, giving, annoying, pleasant, sullen, shining, idiotic, clever, childlike, too old for his years… Every contradictory, yet accurate adjective that could be used to describe his brother and his flip on a dime moods.

Evil was never supposed to be one of them.

Not Sam, who had shone with an inner light.

Not his brother, who he'd always thought of as being even a little _too _good.

God, where was _that _kid?

How had Dean lost him?

And why?

"Oh, Sammy," Dean whispered, low enough so Sam shouldn't have been able to hear him.

And yet, Sam's head turned, his eyes quickly finding Dean's.

It was kinda creepy and it reminded Dean all to clearly of why they were there.

"How did this happen, Sam?" Dean asked, his voice gruff, but carefully devoid of any emotions such as blame or anger.

Sam heard them anyway.

His immediate jump to anger was a sure sign of that.

"You think this is who I want to be, Dean?" His feet hit the floor as he sat up, his disbelief and rage clear. "A demon-blood addicted, hell-bound, crazy person?" He jumped to his feet and began to pace. "'Cause I know that's who I am right now. I know it's bad. I know it's wrong… but what did you expect? You were gone, I was alone and the only thing that mattered to me was destroying the thing that destroyed _you_. You had to expect that Dean. It's our way. The _Winchester _way!"

"But that doesn't excuse this!" Dean growled, practically spitting the words out. "There _is_ no excuse for this!"

"I'm not excusing it, Dean!" Dean scoffed and Sam growled. "I'm not! But if I wanted to kill Lilith it was the only way!" Sam took a deep shuddering breath. "And you can hate what I've been doing, what I've _become_, all you want to. Hell, you can hate _me_! Be pissed, Dean. That's your right… But understand that _I'm _pissed to! And you have to understand that sometimes _I_ hate _you_, because this, _all _of this, is your fucking fault!"

"What the hell Sam!" Dean exclaimed, both shocked and hurt by Sam's words… And angry. Still so goddamned angry.

And Sammy looked so fucking sad. So incredibly…

"It was over for me, Dean," Sam said softly, his voice full of despair… and an unsettling longing. "Sure, I'd died, and that sucked… for _you_. But not for _me_, Dean. You couldn't live with me dead? Well bully for you, but did you ever stop to think about _me_?"

"All I've ever thought about my whole life…" Dean started defensively.

"Saving me. Protecting me. I know that Dean. And I know that I didn't always appreciate it… But selling your soul to get me back…? That wasn't for _me_. That was for _you_. You didn't want to be the one left behind… left alone. I was stronger, right? That's what you thought, what you said? Well, we can all see how wrong you were about that… and now you're pissed at me because I didn't handle it right? How about how you handled it, Dean? You _sold _your _soul _when I died. How is what I've done worse than what you did?"

"Sammy…"

"It was over for me, Dean," Sam repeated. "I was dead and all that evil destiny crap would have died with me. I was in a better place. You probably don't believe that. Hell, sometimes I think that it was all a dream. Maybe it was."

This was worse then Dean had imagined it being. He'd thought that _he'd _be the one yelling… maybe hitting. He talked better with his fists. But this… He'd known that Sam had been angry at him for selling his soul, but he'd thought that it was only because of what it had cost _him_, not what it had cost _Sam_. When he spoke, his voice was wary.

"What are you talking about, Sammy?"

"I was dead for a while, Dean. Hours, a day maybe? Hell isn't the only place where time passes differently. It's naïve of you to think so."

Dean growled slightly, but didn't protest. When it came to any afterlife other than hell, he _was _naïve.

"If months are years when you're dead, how long is an hour? How long is a day?" Sam paused, his eyes closing as he pictured something Dean couldn't even begin to imagine. "Long enough, Dean. Too long…" The words were almost a whimper. Such pain. Such pain that _he _had caused. "And you never even thought to ask what happened to me during that time? With all we know, it didn't even occur to you to ask…?"

Sam shook his head in disbelief and Dean felt something dark and nauseating growing deep in his gut…

And suddenly he questioned just when it was that his little brother had started lying to him.

"You believed in hell Dean, but nothing else. Even now, with all that you've seen recently, I don't know that you believe in heaven. But where do you think that good people go when they die? And where do you think I'm going to be headed now?"

The bright, shining light that their father had walked into flashed in Dean's eyes.

Followed closely by the warring of darkness and fire that was hell.

His brother had ascended in light. It was obvious now that he thought about it.

Sam had never consciously or willingly used his demon's blood born powers before his death. There would have been no reason to keep him from the light.

He certainly hadn't become a ghost. Dean could attest to that.

"What do you remember?" Dean asked, his voice hoarse and sick.

Sam laughed. A horrible, _humorless_, little laugh.

"Not much, but enough. I remember peace… happiness. All those nauseating clichés that people talk about… and I can never go back, Dean. What I've become, they'll never let me back in. You spent four months in hell, Dean." Dean opened his mouth in protest. "Yeah, I know, four months was forty years in the pit. But four months or forty years? That's all the same to _me _because I'm destined for an _eternity _there… all because you couldn't live with me dead."

The guilt ate at him, even as his voice rose in protest, denial. "That's not fair, Sam. You made your own choices…"

"Choices I never would have had to make if it weren't for your selfishness, Dean!" Sam exclaimed, anger and guilt warring for dominance in his tone. "Don't get me wrong. I know exactly how much of this is my fault. I know _all _the wrong decisions I made. All the things I did that I shouldn't have. But you pushed me down that slippery slope, Dean. How can you blame me for sliding down it?"

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath, too many emotions to name crushing him, destroying him.

He hated what Sam had become, hated what he'd done to get to the point that he was now at.

And Sam was right. At times he _had _hated his brother.

But really, was anything that Sam had done worse than what he himself had done? What their father had done?

Sam had used powers gained from a demon, but he had used them in hopes of _saving _people. Saving _Dean_. Protecting his _family_.

It was what Dean and their father had taught him. What they had expected of him. And Sam was right, it was wrong to condemn him for following his instincts.

But more than that was the guilt of what Dean himself had done. Things that Sam didn't condemn _him _for…

Well, Sam didn't condemn the action, merely the consequences…

And Dean had _sold _his _soul_.

He'd spilled blood in hell and brought about the _apocalypse_.

Maybe it was time for a little forgiveness.

And maybe it was time to stop fighting each other and to start bringing the fight to the ones who deserved it.

The Angels and Demons who moved them about like pawns in some twisted chess game.

"We're going to get you through this Sammy," Dean said, voice and heart devoid of blame or anger.

Sam's head swung around and his eyes met his brothers.

"Dean?" He questioned, his voice filled with burgeoning hope.

"We're gonna get you through this Sam. And then we're going to take them down. Every last one of them. You and me. Together."

And Sam laughed. Deep, long, bellyaching laughter.

Dean frowned. "I know it was a little melodramatic Sammy, but it wasn't exactly funny."

Sam shook his head, obviously buoyed by an emotion neither one of them had felt much lately.

Hope.

"It's just that, for a guy who expresses to hate chick flick moments, you sure are responsible for a lot of them."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Bitch!" He muttered.

And Sam smiled. That bright, beautiful smile that never failed to get Dean to smile in return.

"Jerk."

_The End_


End file.
